"Presents, Albus. I'm talking about Christmas presents."Title: All I Want for Christmas
Author: Beelsebutt
Beta: Jen
Main Characters: Minerva/Albus
Genre: Christmas-y Fluff
Word Count: < 300
Trimmings:
Window 1 &
Window 6 &
Window 14Rating: PG-13 / K-12I wanted to participate in the "Song Title" themed Ficlet Challenge. Because the title I had in mind was in English, for me, the fic had to be in English too. Yeah, I'm a bit weird that way... 8 ) With this ficlet, I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas and if there's someone who likes this pairing, whose birthday is on the way, Happy Birthday to you!
Thanks to Nappeli & sulo for their encouraging words, but most of all, thanks to my awesome beta, Jen, who kindly took care of my misspellings... you rock! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Potters, J.K. Rowling does. I'm all about respect and admiration for The Lady, and not making any money with this, so don't sue!
All I Want for Christmas
"Albus, what do you want for Christmas?"
Albus glanced at Minerva over his spectacles but continued writing with his grand feather quill.
"What do you mean?" he asked, then dipped the quill into the ink bottle that sat on the corner of his desk.
Minerva frowned and huffed, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of answer. She gazed at him, seemingly calm, but her restless fingers revealed her agitation, at least enough for Albus to notice.
"Presents, Albus. I'm talking about Christmas presents."
"Ah, dear Minerva," Albus chuckled and laid down his quill. He rolled the parchment he had written, got up and sat down beside her. His white beard glowed in the dim-lit room; his deep blue eyes twinkled.
"I already have all I want," he said softly and brought Minerva's hand to his lips.
He gently kissed her palm, then her wrist, and finally her lips, which were waiting slightly open.
"I know that but, uh, is there anything at all? Book or something?" Minerva asked, breathlessly, perplexed by his demeanour.
"I have everything I want," Albus repeated and pulled her closer, "right here in my arms."
"Albus, you sentimental, old fool," Minerva scolded him but, all the same, curled into his lap. "Still, I do love you for that," she purred.
"I know you do," Albus whispered in her ear and gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "As do I."
Minerva smiled. Perhaps her present should be something that couldn't be wrapped, yet tangible enough to add a ribbon. Or two.
